BooksBarbecue
Back The Preserve
Chapters (56)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Half-Title Page
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. 9.
  15. 10.
  16. 11.
  17. 12.
  18. 13.
  19. 14.
  20. 15.
  21. 16.
  22. 17.
  23. 18.
  24. 19.
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. EPILOGUE
  55. AFTERWORD
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“What do you need?”

“We need a watchman. Lansdale says you’re our man.”

Just then Lett’s insides squeezed up, and his stomach turned from an unholy smell that he recognized all too well. It was worse than rotting meat, or decaying jungle vegetation, or decomposing flesh. It was the gas from corpses left far too long in an enclosed space.

The engineer smelled it too and his already pale face colored green. “You recognize that,” he said. Lett nodded. “We’re just lucky it’s been leaking out for a long time now; else we’d have to wait weeks before we could stand it.” The engineer pulled nose plugs from a pocket and shoved them in. “Sorry, I don’t have any more.”

“You got cigs?”

The engineer handed Lett a pack of Camels. Lett shook out one, tore it in two and placed a half in each nostril. The engineer nodded in appreciation. “Well, if that isn’t some GI ingenuity.”

He led Lett straight into the side of the hill, through a tall opening that became a cave, then a cavern, then a wide tunnel. He put on a hard hat, although the tunnel was more than high and wide enough here. A couple mining lamps showed the way. Voices echoed from about thirty yards down the tunnel, which curved until the beams of flashlights appeared, then spotlights.

Lansdale and his latest team had gathered around a spot in the floor of the tunnel.

“Here is fine, just keep watch,” the engineer told Lett and strode back to his place among the current meeting of the minds. Lett stood at the curve of the tunnel. He crossed his arms and cradled his carbine in them. He kept one eye on the entrance but one on the work at hand, and no one seemed to mind.

They crouched over the spot in the floor, dismayed and enrapt and inspired at once like schoolyard boys poking a downed bird to see if it would wake again. They had shiny prodding tools instead of sticks. Lansdale eventually placed an ear to the ground. After about twenty minutes of this, they marked their spot with a little flag, then they ate Spam sandwiches and drank coffee, the remainders of which they offered Lett. Then they moved on, waving at Lett to follow as if he were a slow-witted dog.